Code Word: Pegasus
by M.L.Quincy
Summary: In a world of magic, there is no "Mist," and the mortals are familiar with the existence of supernatural beings. But the Demigods are shunned and sometimes killed out of the Mortal's ignorant fear. Now there is the top-secret society called Camp Half-Blood, where they have come together and are creating the revolution. OC; AU.


Dear Diary.

No, ugh. I hate "Dear Diaries." I hate "Dear" whatever. How about I just redo it? I write in pen, so I can't erase anything.

July 27, 2013.

Hi. My name is- oh, whoops. I can't tell you my name. It's too dangerous for us. In fact this letter has absolutely no fingerprints. I have to write with gloves on, so there would be no way to trace this back to me. Let's say my name is September. Um... I don't know how you found this letter. This is my first one. I need some way to let out all of my happenings. My experiences. But if I keep all my letters in one place, it'll, again, be too dangerous. So my plan is to write when I can, and then release them to somewhere random. Say if ever I get a balloon, I'll tie it to that and watch it float away. This one, I'm putting in a blank envelope and dropping in a blue metal mail box on the street. It might be thrown away, lost, who knows what, but at least I have some release.

Some release from all of this crazy crazy crazy.

So hello. I'm "September" and I'm a thirteen year old girl. I have just recently become part of this group of people. Their members are all top secret, and are frequently considered to be something like terrorists to normal people.

We're demigods, all of us. Well, most of us. Some aren't in the least bit human. Nymphs, satyrs.

Even monsters.

But to the humans, we're all monsters. Spawn of the freaking devil. They don't know anything.

They say they have a god, only one god, called God. I say they don't. Why? Because my FATHER is a god, and he isn't God. He's known to us as Hermes. He's a pretty awesome guy. I've met him. Very infrequently (once, to be exact). The messenger of the other Gods, very fast, and is most well known for being the God of running, messengers, travelers, trickery, lying, stealing, tom-foolery. He may be one of the twelve Olympians, but definitely not one of the most well known.

We aren't evil. I don't know where they got this idea that we are. I think it was some time after Rome changed their main religion. We used to be known as heros. Gods ourselves. Nowadays, we have to hide. Or else we are executed. Shot, bombed, burned. Or at the very least humiliated into hiding.

People are killed for even being suspected. An amazing singer? Dead, child of Apollo. Strikingly beautiful person? Dead, child of Aphrodite. Theif? Dead, child of Hermes.

I don't know where this is all going. I'm more afraid of mortals than I am of monsters. The government is even coming up with technologies to detect us. Anyone with the slightest bit of ichor in their blood.

It scares the hell out of me. I don't know what to do.

So. I have become part of this group. They are so well known, talked about on the news so often that I believe It's safe to mention here in this letter.

We're known as the Children of Camp Half-Blood. Camp Half-Blood, or CHB for short. We were created a couple hundred years ago. Completely secret. Now there are many worldwide. There are also ones for other ethnicities, of other gods. The Pharaohs, (Egyptain), SPQR, which is also known as Children of Rome, though SPQR is shorter and more commonly used. There are also groups for the Norse and Chinese and Eskimo and Native Americans. But we, the Greeks, CHB, are the greatest threat, SPQR close in our wake.

I didn't always know I was a demigod. For the first thirteen years, I was completely ignorant. My mother, even, was oblivious. She thought my dad had died in a car wreck a buisness trip to Toledo Ohio not too long after they had met. She then figured out she was pregnant, with me.

I don't have the best of personal histories. However, I have far from the worst. Powerful demigods are easily rooted out, by the obvious number of monsters they attract. Often they are sent to Juvi Jail or kill themselves or some other horrendous fate. It's not often that they live to be twenty.

I learned that I was what I was about a week before my last birthday. The Children of CHB knew who I was. They keep track of almost every demigod in the world. There are messengers who do their best to round as many as they can up before they turn thirteen, or if they are more powerful, they find them earlier.

I was one of the lucky ones.

Anyway. I believe I have to wrap this up. I'm relitively safe now. It has been a few days since I turned thirteen. It was a good birthday though.

I'll write another letter tomorrow. But that doesn't matter exactly, since it won't be the same person to recieve my letters twice.

Thank you for listening, whether you despised this or not. You may be a hating mortal, or a creature, or another demigod like me. Or even the rubbish bin.

Thank you for listening, Rubbish Bin.

With much Sincerity,

Alias September


End file.
